


Inventory Day

by dogeared



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Winter, handcrafted with care, not really a morning person, rose apothecary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: Patrick settles his weight more fully against David, pinning him in place and pressing a kiss against his jaw, and David drapes his arms over Patrick’s shoulders and says, “I mean, I guess we could take a break.”





	Inventory Day

Patrick picks him up at the motel in the predawn dark. He only has to wait a minute or so, heater blowing, radio on low, before David’s slipping into the car, bundled up in an oversized checkerboard scarf and letting in a blast of cold air followed by a cloud of cedar and citrus. David buckles his seatbelt and turns off the radio and closes his eyes, and they’re still closed when Patrick pulls into a spot around the corner from the shop and parks. They sit silent for five seconds, ten, fifteen.

“What _I_ would like,” David eventually says, his voice morning-rough, “is coffee.”

Patrick glances at the car’s clock before he turns off the engine. “And I would love to buy you a cup of coffee, when the café opens in two hours and forty-seven minutes.”

“Hmm,” David concludes, and then he finally opens his eyes and leans over and kisses Patrick, familiar and warm and minty. “Good morning.” His eyes are a little puffy, like he just rolled out of bed, and he’s freshly showered, still damp around the edges, and as Patrick watches him extricate himself from the seatbelt and let himself out of the car, he feels his heart flip like it’s their first time all over again.

They make a good start on inventory, which Patrick had insisted they do before David placed his orders for the new year (there may have been a 7-minute presentation that he made David sit through). He and David stake out opposite corners and make quiet, steady progress, but as more and more boxes get strewn across the floor and products spill out onto every flat surface, the stockroom becomes increasingly close quarters. Every time David moves around the space, Patrick gets hit by a fresh wave of his cologne, and as he’s rolling up his own shirt sleeves, feeling overheated and distracted, he notices that David’s still wearing that ridiculous scarf. 

“Aren’t you hot?” Patrick asks, and David kind of twinkles at him and says, “Thank you,” and then goes back to counting lip balms, sorting them into neat piles by flavor, and the next thing Patrick knows, he has David backed against the wall and he’s getting all tangled up trying to unwind the scarf from David’s neck and kiss him at the same time.

David breaks away long enough to warn, “Cashmere!” as the scarf ends up in an untidy puddle on the floor. “Also, _you’re_ the one who said, quote, David, it’s _imperative_ that we get this done, unquote.”

He did. They were supposed to do inventory last night, and then David had gotten called away to some kind of urgent mandatory Rose family meeting, and Patrick may or may not have put his hands on his hips and reminded David of his presentation (“Next Steps: Rose Apothecary in Q1 2019”) and made an executive decision that they’d just have to get up early and do it before the shop opened today. He hadn’t actually been sure whether David was going to emerge from the motel at their not exactly mutually agreed upon pick-up time this morning or not.

Patrick settles his weight more fully against David, pinning him in place and pressing a kiss against his jaw, and David drapes his arms over Patrick’s shoulders and says, “I mean, I guess we could take a break.”

Patrick’s suddenly grateful for David’s absolute refusal to abide fluorescent lighting even in the stockroom, because the soft glow back here, which is sometimes dim to the point of uselessness, is, at this moment, just right. And there’s no danger that anyone’s going to walk in on them, because the door’s locked and it’s dark out and everyone else in town is still asleep.

He gets his hands under David’s sweater and holds on while David devotes himself to the kind of kisses that make Patrick lightheaded. David’s skin is hot, and he smells like wood and oranges—if it’s a new product he’s trying out, Patrick approves—and Patrick still hasn’t quite gotten used to how _right_ being with David feels. 

So he lets himself sink into the sensations, and when he surfaces again, David’s pulling back to look at him. His mouth is curved up into a smirk, and he sounds smug and satisfied when he says, “Mmm, I could wake up like this every morning.” 

Patrick stares at him. “David Rose,” he says, “are you suggesting we move in together?” He’s teasing, but David tenses up and looks at a spot over Patrick’s shoulder. He’s grateful they’re still so close, because it’s preventing David from attempting any kind of escape, and Patrick has no intention of letting him go. “David,” he says, and waits patiently until David meets his gaze again. Patrick can’t keep the dumb, giddy grin off his face. “I could wake up like this every morning, too. At a more reasonable, hour, of course.”

David clears his throat and blinks rapidly a few times, which makes Patrick want to squeeze him tight. “I feel like that goes without saying,” David says, “but thank you for saying it anyway.”

Patrick leans in for one more firm kiss, like they’re sealing a promise. Soon, the sky will lighten to rosy pink the way it does in winter, and the café will open and they’ll go get much-needed coffee, and maybe Patrick will treat David to pancakes, and he’ll listen while David tells him more about the self-care kits he’s been assembling to sell after New Year’s, and then they’ll head back over to open the shop they run, together.


End file.
